Tattoo Chronicles
by xpaperlovex
Summary: Renji wanted tattoos to tell his story. He didn't expect the tattoos to uncover a story of their own. {RenjixOC}
1. First

**Entry #1 – Of Fishmongers and Masochists  
><strong>_Name: Abarai Renji  
><em>_Occupation: Shin'o Academy first year student_

* * *

><p>The bamboo wind chimes sounded as the shop door slid open. A boy stepped in, his tall frame casting a looming shadow into the muted room. He was followed by a much more diminutive girl, who quickly gave the tattoo parlour an once-over upon entering.<p>

Another female, who had been seated behind the counter scratching at a paper with a brush, perked up.

"Erm," the male began. He was a burly teen clothed in street garbs, his scarlet hair bunched up in a tight ponytail. One of his arms was cocked at the elbow, a finger scratching at his cheek in nervousness. "Is this the tattoo place?"

The girl on the opposite side of the counter smiled politely. "Nope, this is the fishmonger." The boy's female companion kicked him in the shins.

"_Fool! _Where else could this be?"

"_Ow!_ I knew that! I just, I..."

"Would you like to get a tattoo?" the girl behind the counter purred demurely. She recognised the pair, of course. She had seen the two streaking across the streets of Inuzuri, enraged shopkeepers after them and their accomplices, when she was a kid. Over the past few months, she had watched the male one peering into the parlour with suppressed curiosity at times, occasionally venturing in to rove the shop.

"Heck yeah! I mean-" A prod from his female friend had him clearing his throat awkwardly. "Yes...please."

The smile on the girl's face stretched wider. "Have a look around; take your pick." Having said that, she turned and disappeared behind the partition between this room and the next. Left to their own devices, the boy and the girl started wandering around.

The boy knew the place, roughly. He had previously been to the tattoo parlour, months of gazing at the shop front from just across the street, of watching in awe as people stepped out brandishing their newly acquired tattoos, even entered the shop once or twice, pretending to be a customer. He recognised the small counter and the girl behind it. He recognised the array of placards, each bearing a unique design, arranged immaculately on the tables bordering the room. He recognised the smell of ink and must.

The girl was visiting the parlour for her first time. Needless to say, she didn't come for the tattoos. She tried to feign interest as she browsed through the various displays, but genuine excitement eventually shone through when she came across one of them.

"This one, Renji!"

The redhead glanced up from his corner of the room at the design that his friend was holding up eagerly. "Hell no."

The tattoo was that of a cartoonised rabbit – more specifically, the girl's favourite mascot, Chappy. A shiver ran down the boy's spine at the thought of carrying that design, of _anyone_ carrying that design, for that matter. He rolled his eyes at the girl's puppy-dog violet eyes and resumed pouring over the designs at his corner.

At that moment, the counter girl returned, emerging through the curtains holding a tray of equipment and a basin of water in her hands. She set these down on the countertop, her hands setting to work on her hair, clipping the long, ebony tresses up atop her head. "So, seen anything you like yet?"

"Gimme a moment." The boy was reading the words neatly printed on the back of one of the placards. What set this tattoo parlour from others – he had discovered on his first visit here – was that each tattoo design was accompanied by a brief write-up, the story of the people who had previously chosen these tattoos, or even requested their own designs. It was partially what inspired him to take up a tattoo in the first place; he wanted tattoos to tell his story, as well.

The girl shrugged, catching a strand of hair that had strayed out of her grasp and pressing it back down. "Take your time."

He carefully put down the placard he was reading, before picking up another one. The design was interesting – a dragon winding around a ball of flame. He flipped it over and scanned the description tied to it. _A passionate profession of love to his lover._ He frowned. _Nope._

Replacing the placard back on the table, he caught sight of another, its edges poking out from beneath a stack of papers. He gingerly pulled it out. The placard was on its flipside, and the boy read the write-up first. _Name: Horikyo, Occupation:..._A blank. The boy paused. No occupation? That was the first he had come across amongst all the other designs. The rest of them were filled, even if it was just an _'Inuzuri resident'_. Also, Horikyo _what?_ He had no idea if the ambiguous name belonged to a male or female.

Furrowing his crimson brows, he read on. _Drawn over multiple occasions. New strokes were added on every time an accomplishment of great significance was achieved; these tattoos served as a collection of war trophies._ There was no other story, meaning he – or she - was the only one with the tattoo, thus far. The teen male contemplated this. It did seem pretty interesting and apt, considering his own purpose for tattooing as well.

He turned the piece of paper over and his breath caught.

Unlike most of the other designs, the placard bore the outline of a body, indicating that it was a full-body tattoo. Black decorated the body, in two symmetrical rows of bold, jagged lines, from forehead to hip. It was slightly perturbing but was also raw and primal and _he wanted it_. He knew that with growing certainty as he continued staring down at it, before raising it up and waving it at the counter girl.

"I'll take this." The girl looked up from where she was slipping a black leather glove onto her left hand. The redhead could have imagined it but he thought he saw a look of alarm flicker across the girl's pale face before she quickly smoothed it over with her practiced smile.

"That's rare," she commented, the smile not reaching her eyes. "Few people choose that because of the great amount of pain tattooing that will bring. Are you sure you want that, _okyaku-san_?"

_Only one person, to be precise,_ the male thought. Aloud, he said, "Yep. I can get it done over many times. Like Horikyo-san." The girl's expression darkened at his response.

And then, she suddenly grinned. "_Okyaku-san-_"

"Are you a masochist?"

The other girl, who had observed their exchange silently all this while, snorted. "No, he's just an idiot." When the redhead opened his mouth to shoot an angry retort, she quickly added on, "Whatever. Your face was unsalvageable anyway, Renji." In spite of the fuming boy, the girl behind the counter chuckled.

"Understood. Sit here, if you please." Expertly, she hooked one of her legs on a second tall chair behind the counter and dragged it out. She hopped off her own chair as the redhead male approached and sat. The boy passed her the placard containing the design and she fingered it lightly, seemingly in thought.

Then, she raised her head and inquired. "Where would you like to start first?" Up close, her eyes were a startling and piercing turquoise blue, the boy noticed.

He had prepared for this. "Here," he prodded at the lines right above where the eyes should have been. _The most prominent place._

The ebony-haired girl quirked an eyebrow. "The forehead, being the closest to the brain, will be the most painful part. Are you sure?"

The boy nodded. "Sure."

The girl shook her head, smiling faintly. The boy caught a whiff of something earthy. "You really are a masochist." Nevertheless, she dragged the tray and basin of water towards him. The boy could now see what was on the tray – needles, cotton swabs and an inkwell.

"Your eyebrows need to be shaved first; lemme go take the razor," the girl continued, ready to disappear through the partitions again. "Hold on for a mo'." Something suddenly occurred to the boy and he hastily halted the girl.

"Wait, uh, _you_'re the one doing the tattooing?" he tried not to sound nervous.

The female looked back and smirked slightly. "Do you see anyone else around here?" She chuckled at the boy's flabbergasted look as she disappeared behind the curtains.

_What the-?!_ The street urchin male had always thought the tattoo artist was another person – an older, wiser and more experienced person – who only appeared to engrave tattoos on others. Heck, the girl couldn't have been older than him!

His female companion slid up next to him, laughing. "Having second thoughts, tough boy?" Her violet eyes were twinkling with the anticipation of spectating.

"N-No way! I just needed to check, is all." The female artist re-entered the room, approaching him with a razor and a tube of shaving cream in hand. The boy restrained the urge to recoil from the menacing glint of the razor.

"Uh, just wondering, how long have you been doing this?"

The ebony-haired tattoo artist replied immediately, "A whole lifetime!" The boy didn't think it was a joking matter. Sensing this, the girl shot him a reassuring grin. "Don't worry. I know what I am doing. Now stay still." The male was taken by surprise when her fingers suddenly came in contact with his chin, holding his head in place. First squeezing some cream onto her fingers, she smeared a portion over her customer's eyebrows. Without hesitation, she took the razor and shaved off both his eyebrows. She was being careful, the boy could tell, and yet she worked deftly.

"Once you tattoo these, your skin here will never be able to grow hair again," she explained, inspecting her handiwork. "Now wash up and I'll go change the water."

She pushed the water basin towards him, who dipped his forehead into it, washing off the remnants of the cream. When he was done, the girl took the basin and left the room. After making sure she was gone, the girl left in the room guffawed at her friend's appearance.

"No..._eyebrows_!" she gasped out in between bursts of laughter, pointing at him while clutching her stomach.

"Shut up," the subject growled. He was saved from continued mockery when the girl reappeared with the basin of new water in hand. His friend quickly clamped her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle the giggles.

The tattoo artist looked amused. "I see your friend is really excited for you. Let's begin then, shall we?"

"Ah, yes," he barely had time to make out before her fingers were on his forehead again, with a brush, tapping on his skin as she drew out the lines of the design. Her touch was light and nimble, a result of years of practice and experience. He noticed that the girl bore a tattoo as well, a flower design of some sort printed on her wrist, its edges disappearing into the glove. After the design had been applied, the girl raised a mirror to his face. "Okay?"

The male customer examined himself. "Fine."

The tattoo artist lowered the mirror. From his peripheral vision, he saw her hand further reach for a needle from the tray. It looked bigger than he expected. He closed his eyes, feeling slightly queasy.

"That's right, keep your eyes closed." He felt her breath on his cheek. It smelt somewhat minty. "And don't move." The first sting came, before her instructions had barely sank in. The needle punctured in quick successions, and his forehead was suddenly smarting with an intensity he had never felt before. His fists tensed around the edges of the chair.

"You could get your friend to hold your hand, if you like." Even with his eyes closed, the boy could sense the hint of humour in her voice. Feeling the heat rush to his face, he opened his mouth to refuse. Towards his right, he heard Rukia shout, "Like I'd ever hold _his_ hand!" She sounded distant, as if it was only him and the tattoo girl in this room and she was in another one far away.

"Don't frown. Ah..." He felt something fluid trickle from his forehead, followed by a cloth gently wiping it away. He immediately forced himself to relax his muscles and the tattooing continued for a while longer, in silence.

"So," the girl suddenly said, and the boy focused on her voice to take his mind off the stinging pain. "What's your story?" The boy tried to clear his mind from the cloud of pain he was experiencing to recall why exactly he had come here in the first place.

"I am Abarai Renji, and that idiot with me is Rukia," he began carefully. "We've lived on these streets since as long as we can remember. But a week ago, we took the entrance exam to the Shin'o Academy and both passed. We're both going to become shinigamis."

Her fingers on him paused, before resuming. "Congratulations. So this is your way of commemorating?"

The boy called Renji suppressed the proud grin that threatened to surface on his face. "Sorta. And also...it's the start of a new life, for both of us. And so...I'd like to commemorate each achievement I make with a tattoo, so that I won't forget 'em."

The tattoo artist was silent for a while. "That's interesting," she finally hummed, as she continued with her work. There was a break in which she exchanged the needle in her hands with another.

The tattooing process took a long time. Or at least, to Renji it seemed like an enduringly long time. He was sure he had never sat so still for such an extended period. When the girl finally declared "_Done!_", he exhaled deeply. He opened his eyes a little bit too quickly - just as the female dabbed at the last spot with a cotton gauze – her electric turquoise eyes stunned him for a moment.

She backed away and held up a mirror to him again. The redhead immediately raised a finger to gingerly poke at the tender spot. Bold, jagged lines, printed exactly like the ones on the placard. They were part of him now. He grinned.

"Perfect," he murmured.

"Perfect-_ly_ _stupid_," Rukia remarked, and he glowered at her. But out of the corner of his eyes, he caught the ebony-haired girl smiling, not at him, but at his new tattoos. It was a genuine smile this time, one that finally reached her turquoise eyes. Renji had seen enough homeless kids to know that it was a smile of appreciation.

"Pay her and let's get going, Renji," the slight girl beside him reminded. "Time to show off your new eyebrows to the rest of the world." He hurriedly did as he was told and before he knew it, was being rushed out of the door by Rukia. The bamboo wind chimes sounded again, as the door slid open.

Before he passed the doorway, however, he turned back into the shop again.

"Th-Thank you," he made out, his finger scratching at his cheek again. Damn, he was never good at these stuff. The girl bowed politely in return.

"See you again, Abarai-san."

* * *

><p><strong>The stories that I write are always so long-winded and wordy, this idea came to me when I was thinking about writing a shorter installation. As you can see, the 'non-wordy' didn't work out too well, hurhur. <strong>

**Anyway, I've sort of developed the plot in my head, and I felt _inspired_, so I might be dedicating more time to this, while The One Who Calls Me Hime will...go into a _mini-_hiatus. Hope you enjoy._  
><em>**

**Feedback and reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	2. Second

**Entry #2 – Of Walls to Feel Sorry For  
><strong>_Name: Abarai Renji  
><em>_Occupation: Shin'o Academy first year student_

* * *

><p>She recognised the two immediately as they sauntered in. <em>Abarai Renji and Rukia.<em> Second-time clients' names have never eluded her. Though students of the Academy, they were back in their street garbs during their return to Inuzuri. Like before, the boy's burly frame filled the doorway, bathing the room with his shadow.

"Time for your second tattoo?" she inquired, sitting up.

"Ah, you remembered." The redhead boy scratched his cheek with a finger bashfully. The tattoo artist smiled faintly, recalling the habitual motion. "Yeah, I guess."

The girl nodded. "Give me a moment." She disappeared into the other room, the curtains fluttering behind her. Renji took the chance to look around the parlour. Everything seemed exactly the same as it was, since the last time he was here.

The female tattoo artist re-emerged from the other room. As before, she set the tray of equipment and water basin on the counter, motioning for her customer to take a seat. As she tied her hair up, she asked, "So, what's the occasion this time?"

"I, uh, passed my first exams," the redhead explained, as he made his way to the chair. "Rather decently, in fact."

"He boasts," the other girl, Rukia, stuck out a tongue at him.

"I do _not_!"

" 'Rukia! I passed! I passed! Told ya I would! And I came second in class for Zanjutsu! Since I'm in the _special_ advanced class, I guess that means I'm second in cohort!' " the girl mimicked, punctuating each sentence with an exaggerated exclamation.

The boy looked offended. "I did _not_ say it like that."

"Oh yeah? Then how _did_ you boast it to me, Mr. Second-In-Zanjutsu-But-Dead-Bottom-In-Kidō?"

The redhead student hissed. "The examiner was biased."

"Pretty sure setting the examiner on fire would make anyone biased, Renji. Against you, that is."

The said boy chuckled, darkly. "So this is how you wanna play. Let's take a look at _your_ results then, Ru-ki-a. What have you done well in?"

"Definitely better than you in Kidō."

"Heard you overshot in Hohō and smashed into a wall."

Now it was the girl's turn to look offended. "What lies!"

The boy sneered. "Not sure if I should feel sorry for you or for the wall."

"Well, I _know_ I definitely feel sorry for the wall _you_ blew up!"

"It had it coming! It was in the way!"

"Now you're just sprouting nonsense-"

"_The two of you..._"

Both boy and girl stopped immediately, suddenly sensing a source of very menacing aura. They turned stiffly, to see the girl, still smiling that polite smile of hers, but pointing a needle at their direction. By the way she was gripping the weapon, Renji had no doubt that she was willing to launch it at them at any moment's notice. Worse still, he doubted she'd miss.

"Quiet please, or I would have to ask you to leave."

The two of them nodded vigorously. "Yesma'am."

"And you." She turned her smile on Renji, who instinctively recoiled in fear. "_Please sit back down._" His butt was glued to the chair in a split second. But during that moment, he had sensed something else. A disturbance in the air; a deep stirring in the atmosphere. He shot a quick glance at the tattoo artist, then at the partitions separating the two rooms.

"Shall we start?"

"A-Ah," the boy quickly consented, and pushed the discovery that gnawed at him out of his mind.

The tattooing process this time was a lot faster, and less painful than the last. Or Renji could have gotten used to it already, albeit slightly. He barely spared a glance at his reflection afterwards, knowing that it would be just as the design dictated.

"Anyway, congratulations," the tattoo artist said, while carefully replacing the equipment back in the metallic tray. "For promoting. Both of you."

"Ah, thank you." Renji paused, struggling to recall something. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

The female cocked her ebony head to one side. "You have never asked for my name before."

_He didn't,_ the redhead realised as he searched his memories. But how could she had known with such certainty? It's been almost a year since his last visit.

"Then, what's your name?" he asked. The girl's turquoise eyes twinkled, as she introduced.

"Hatano Aoi."

* * *

><p>"What was that?" the violet-eyed girl elbowed her friend in the ribs, teasing. They had left the shop a moment ago, and were heading back down the streets.<p>

"What was _what_?" the redhead boy shot back irritably. "She knew our names and we didn't know hers!"

Rukia covered her mouth, her eyes shining with amusement. "You were totally checking her out, Renji."

"I _wasn't_!" It was true. He had merely been curious about the girl, about the way she seemed to recall things with clarity, about her earthy scent, about her electric turquoise eyes. She was too skinny anyway, in the unhealthy way that was not uncommon amongst Inuzuri people, and her skin bore a pale pallor.

Plus, he only had eyes for one person.

The diminutive girl beside him sobered up, her voice turning serious. "Did you sense that just now, Renji?"

The boy tilted his face up towards the sky, as he recalled the stirring feeling he had felt in the tattoo parlour. "Ah."

"The reiatsu wasn't hers, though," Rukia continued, as she mulled over it aloud.

"Didn't seem like."

"What do you think she could be hiding?"

"Who knows," he rested the back of his head in one hand, the other reaching up to poke his new tattoo additions. "Ain't our business, anyway." He furrowed his brows at the sky. The Inuzuri skies were forever a murky blue, tainted with the gray of pollution. It fell way short of the particular shade of turquoise blue he had slowly grown accustomed to.

He pictured Hatano Aoi now, the tattoo artist, _his_ tattoo artist, with the startling blue eyes.

He wondered when was the next time he would see her.

* * *

><p><strong>Yay, short chapter! Hopefully the rest would maintain this manageable length. I had to keep rewatching the Shinigami Academy episodes to figure out Renji's tattoo timeline, lol.<strong>

**Feedback and reviews are greatly appreciated!  
>[To be honest, I really treasure reviews - positive or negative - because they give a gauge as to how I'm doing. I'd love to hear from whoever's on the other end, seriously.]<strong>


	3. Third

**Entry #3 – Of Work Leaves and Customer Dissatisfaction  
><strong>_Name: Abarai Renji  
><em>_Occupation: Shin'o Academy second year student_

* * *

><p>He appeared at the doorway, later in the year than the previous. Later than Hatano Aoi had expected. That was the first thought that registered in the female tattoo artist's mind when he entered. The second thought followed quickly, when he slid the door shut again.<p>

He had come in alone.

"Ah?" she inquired, her tone light. "Where is Rukia-san?"

The Shinigami Academy student kept his head lowered, his expression shadowed. Aoi knew she had broached a sensitive topic. Just as she was about to retract her question, the boy suddenly spoke.

"She graduated," his voice was low, a wealth of emotions bubbling beneath the surface. "The Kuchiki clan adopted her and had her graduated straightaway."

"That brat," he continued, gritting his teeth. Aoi noticed his fists clenching at his sides, fingers turning white with tension. "She even got to enter the Thirteenth Squads immediately! I-I'm..."

The turquoise-eyed girl mused for a moment, then concluded, "You liked her." Brown eyes widened a fraction at her statement. The redhead dropped his gaze, considering it. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

"I _loved_ her." He looked up at her. "She was family, the _only_ family I had left." Desperation was laced in his brown eyes, desperation of being understood, of being comforted. _I understand,_ Aoi whispered in her head. She too, had lost people dear to her. She too, had been left behind by a loved one.

"What are you going to do about it, Abarai-san?"

The boy closed his eyes, frowning. "Suck it up, forget about her, I don't know. What I do know, though," he opened his eyes and his voice dropped a notch lower. "Is that I'm gonna stay out of her way now, out of her new life of happiness."

_How noble,_ the girl mused, mildly surprising herself with a hint of remorse. Aloud, she spoke, "I assume you're here to commemorate your passing of the second promotional examination, Abarai-san."

The boy nodded, then glanced away. "It was after the second phase, when she, when she..."

"...I don't even know what I'm doing at the Academy anymore. What's the point? I-"

_Enough._ The female tattoo artist gazed curiously at the sorrow-stricken shinigami student for a while, before reaching a decision.

"Really sorry, Abarai-san. But I can't tattoo you today."

The boy's gaze snapped back to hers, alarmed. "Why not?"

"I just..can't?" she responded by casually stretching her arms above her, the sleeves of her robes sliding down to reveal slender limbs. "The shop closes early today, I'm afraid."

"Since when?! What about me, then?"

The girl shot him an attempt at an apologetic smile. "Come back again tomorrow?"

The boy snarled. "I can't just come back again tomorrow! I have no place to stay over for the night!"

"Go back to wherever you used to stay!"

"It's no longer there!- Hey, _wait_! _Hatano!_"

He made a grab for the girl as she ducked through the doorway into the other room, but missed. He rushed in after her. Swatting the curtains aside, he managed to take in a small, undecorated room, bathed in the evening sun streaming in through the windows before noticing the sharp point of a needle at his throat.

"_The parlour is closed for the day_," the tattoo artist at the other end menaced, while smiling sweetly at him. "_Didn't you hear what I said?_" Renji gulped. His fingers itched for a sword at his side to retaliate.

"Ye-Yes," he managed to make out, uncomfortably aware of the needle less than an inch away from piercing his skin. "I'll just head back out now. And come back again tomorrow."

"That's kind of you," the girl sang.

"Have a good day, Abarai-san."

* * *

><p>In the morning, the redhead academy student was found crumpled against the walls of the parlour, snoring soundly. A tiny amused smile materialised on the tattoo artist's face. She stepped up to the human lump, humorously noting the drool dribbling out of his wide-open mouth. She carefully bent down, positioning her mouth at his ear.<p>

"GOOD MORNING!"

A noise sounding halfway between a snort and a yelp broke through the boy. He gave a start, abruptly recoiling at the sight of the girl's face inches away from his, grinning. The back of his head smashed into the wall, and his hands flew up to his head as he let a few swear words fly.

"C'mon, Abarai-san!" Aoi called, too cheerful amidst the entire ordeal. "We have the whole day ahead of us!"

"Hrghh..." the redhead student managed to groan out, still cradling the bump on his head. "My tattoo?"

"Not yet!" the girl remarked brightly. "You and I are going out!"

It took a moment for her words to sink in. "Wait, what? What about your shop?"

"I'm taking a day off! And don't worry, I've got someone looking after it for me." Renji wasn't worrying, just confused at the sudden turn of events. He had forgotten how terribly uncomfortable sleeping on the ground was. That, and his head was hurting like a bitch.

"Try to catch up!" Still confused and disoriented, Renji, with a bit of difficulty, pulled himself to his feet. Further away, the tattoo artist was already sauntering down the street in a thin and worn dark blue yūkata. Running a hand over his face in exasperation, he started off after her.

Hatano Aoi gave him a quick glance as he fell into stride beside her. "Good morning."

"Uh, yeah, okay, back at you," Renji mumbled in return. This had _not_ been a good morning. He was grumpy at the fact that he had to spend the night on the streets – something he thought he'd never have to do ever again – and he was not going to return to the academy without his tattoo. He would _hate_ to think he had travelled all the way for naught.

He shot the female beside him a dark look, but the girl was looking on ahead. As he continued to observe her – but not, like, in the creepy way, of course – she suddenly picked up her pace. Renji watched as she ran ahead to a middle-aged fisherman, who was hoisting a bundle of fishing nets on his sunburnt shoulders as he carried a pail with his other hand.

"Oji-san! Let me help you with that!" The ebony-haired girl bunched up the sleeves of her robes, before taking over the heavy pail from him.

"Oh, Aoi-chan!" the man broke into a smile. He was missing a front tooth, Renji noticed. "Long time no see!"

The tattoo artist was carrying the practiced smile that she used with customers. "How have you been, oji-san?"

"Same ol', same ol'," the man laughed, pressing down on his straw hat. Renji caught sight of something inked onto his bicep. They walked to the edge of the waters, where a dingy fishing boat was waiting. By the time they had settled the equipment down and walked back, Renji was waiting for them there.

The fisherman spared a look at him, his gaze flying to the ink on his forehead.

"One of yours?" the fisherman asked the tattoo artist, raising a thick eyebrow.

"Yes," the girl responded. "This is Abarai Renji."

"Renji, huh? That's a pleasant enough name." The man chuckled, his tanned face creasing up like a wrinkled flower. "You're in good hands, Abarai-kun. She was the one who gave me this, after all." He flexed his bicep, well-toned from the years of doing his line of work. Upon closer inspection, Renji realised that the tattoo he saw before was that of two fishing forks, crisscrossed to form a cross.

Renji nodded, pretending to agree with what was said about him being in good hands, as the man said he had to leave for the day's fishing trip, and how he hoped his catch would be better than the last, before bidding them both goodbye. He watched as the fisherman walked back to the riverbank, before setting off in his small boat into the waters.

"Kasagawa Shinichi," Aoi said quietly, almost startling him. "His beloved younger brother drowned in this river during a fishing trip. He has been searching for his brother in the river when he goes fishing ever since."

Renji stared at the girl, who was still gazing solemnly at the river. "Er, why are you telling me this...?" Aoi turned and started walking off in another direction.

"Next one, Abarai-san."

The 'next one' was a fruit vendor, who was in the midst of setting up his stall for the day. Renji remembered him as the one with the crippled leg – someone that he and his friends back in the days would always take advantage of due to his limited running capabilities. The redhead hung back a bit as the girl approached the stall, wondering if the vendor would recognise him as one of those pesky brats that had probably run away with three month's worth of fruits accumulative. But as the man's gaze shifted past Aoi to him, there was no sign of recognition.

"Madoshira Ryō," Aoi had whispered, in the same way. "Tried to escape to the Seventy-Seventh District, once. But was caught by the police force over there with no legal documents on him. Beaten half to death and thrown back here. His leg hasn't been the same ever since." Renji recalled, with clarity, then, the mark on the damaged leg that he had occasionally caught sight of, when he was running away from the fruit vendor's stall. They were the characters: _Freedom._ He tried to grapple with the immensity of the knowledge suddenly bestowed onto him.

They continued after that, and the tattoo artist brought him to even more places around the town, to even more people. At each person, she would stop and introduce him or her and the story behind them. Each one, without fail, bore a tattoo on his or her body.

"_Shūgo Kotare. Mother passed away when he was young. Father took to physically abusing him until one day, he decided to retaliate and struck back. The father ended up dead..."_

"_Nimasa Hana. Forced into a marriage before she even hit puberty. But her husband was an abusive man so she ran away from his house one night..."_

"_Kobayoshi Izuki. Born an orphan, but was taken under the wing of another, older, orphan who became his 'big brother'. Witnessed the death of his big brother one day when..."_

Renji had stopped trying to ask her how she managed to recall all these after a while.

They stopped by at a small, run-down house. "This is our last stop," the female announced. Renji waited for her to substantiate, to introduce the story, but she didn't say more, gazing into the house with brooding.

After a period of silence, Renji remarked, "I don't see anyone with a tattoo around here." It was true. Save for two children in the yard, there was no one around, at least from what Renji could see.

"That's because he's not here," Aoi breathed out, her eyes soft with sorrow. "Toshigawa Reizaki. Successfully enrolled into the Shin'o Academy. Left his family to become a shinigami and hasn't been back to visit ever since."

Renji felt heavy in his chest. He felt as if there was some unspoken connection between him and Toshigawa Reizaki, but he didn't know what. He didn't know what to say, to think, either. The ebony-haired girl beside him was still for a moment, before turning her back and leaving. Numbly, he followed.

They walked down two streets back towards the parlour, before he spoke again.

"Hatano..."

The ebony-haired girl looked back, and saw the redhead had stopped, his head bowed in deep contemplation. "I have a theory." He raised his head and caught sight of her turquoise eyes watching him closely, before hastily continuing, unsure of why heat was flooding into his cheeks. "The reason you brought me out today, to see all these people with their tattoos...was to remind me, wasn't it? Of my own story, of my own purpose of getting the tattoos. Though I'm still not sure why...But I think...I mean, there isn't any other explanation..."

"Abarai-san," the girl cut him off, her tone serious. "You actually think a lot more than you look."

The insult took a moment to sink in. "What, what does that mean!" Seeing the girl's face relax into a humorous grin, he lowered his voice again. "So, is it true?"

"Who knows?" the girl stretched, turning again so that her back was facing him and he could see the long ebony tresses stretching to her slender waist. "I myself didn't really know why I brought you out either, I just felt like it so I did. It was a whim."

"Wait wait _wait_." Renji couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean you dragged me around town the entire day, on a _whim_?"

"But it achieved something in the end, didn't it?" Amusement broke out over the female's face as she spun around, then her expression turned serious. "What I did know, though, was that I couldn't tattoo you yesterday, Abarai-san. Because you were too consumed by grief over the loss of your friend, you lost sight of why you were even getting the tattoo in the first place. There is no point in getting a tattoo, marring your skin permanently, for a purpose that you no longer believed in."

While she spoke, her electric eyes had stared right into his, serious and penetrating. Now, as her words ended, Renji lowered his gaze uncomfortably.

When he raised his head, he stated flatly, "You're weird." _But your words make sense._

The female laughed, turning back again as she resumed walking. "You're the masochist here."

They continued their leisure pace down the street, before they reached a cross-junction, then turned. Renji's breath caught.

The road opened out to the river that ran through Inuzuri. Granted, on most days, the river was murky and polluted with a town's worth of waste and grime. But at some times of the day, evenings especially, the way the twilight struck the water surface made it shimmer with a subtle shade of gold.

Already, Renji could feel waves of childhood memories threatening to flood into his mind. He faltered, his mind struggling to come up with something, anything, that could distract him.

"Why, why did Horiyko-san choose to have these tattoos?"

His voice came out slightly panicky but Aoi appeared not to have noticed, not looking back as she prepared her response. "Because..."Her voice sounded small, distant, even though they were just a few feet apart.

"Because, every time she had one of her..._achievements,_ a small part of her dies. So she got herself tattooed, to let the ink fill up the holes left behind."

Her answer left Renji with a lot more questions to be answered, but for a start, he needed to confirm one thing. "_She_," he repeated.

"Yes." Now the tattoo artist peered back over her shoulders, and he caught wariness in her eyes. "She."

"But I don't get it," the redhead pressed on. "Why would a small part of her die every time she accomplishes something? Shouldn't she be proud?" The ebony-haired female didn't answer, looking forward again.

"Now let me share _my_ theory, Abarai-san," she finally said, after a long while. "I don't think the only reason you want those tattoos is for them to serve as mementos of personal accomplishments. You are using them as a statement, too. A statement to the nobles in the academy that you are not one of them, that, unlike them, you fought tooth and nail your way into the school from Inuzuri, that they have nothing on you. Am I right?"

Renji was stunned at the girl's depth of perception. "Is it wrong?" he asked in a low voice.

He stopped abruptly as the girl in front of him halted as well, before she spun around, fixing him with a queer look. "No, not at all!"

"To be honest," she continued softly, the shadow of a smile on her lips as she gazed into the setting sun. Her blue eyes reflected bits of silver. "I think it's a _great_ reason."

Renji couldn't help himself. The scene of another girl flashed briefly across his mind – a diminutive, violet-eyed girl knee-deep in the water, holding the river flowers to her nose as she smiled serenely.

"Anyway," the ebony-haired girl was now saying. "You really are a lot more thoughtful than you look, Abarai-san." The shinigami student bit back a growl about how, _again_, he did not appreciate the implication of her words, but something else slipped out of his mouth instead.

"It's Renji."

The girl stopped and turned around to look at the boy again, who had glanced purposely away, suddenly awkward. "Ju-Just call me Renji."

Her turquoise eyes shot him a strange look. "Okay. But that doesn't mean you can call me by my first name too, you know."

"Huh?" the boy exclaimed. "Why do I still have to address you formally?"

"Because you're my customer, and I'm the shopkeeper. So there."

"_Shouldn't it be the other way round?! _Hey! Don't just walk off! Hey, Hatano!"

"C'mon! Don't you want your tattoo?"

"Wait, you're gonna give me my tattoos? Like, now?" The redhead nearly stumbled in his haste to catch up with the girl, who had taken off and was now running ahead, laughing. "_Wait!_"

"Hurry, before the shop closes!"

* * *

><p>Hatano Aoi remained at the counter, long after the redhead customer had left. Eventually, a silhouette emerged from the next room and joined her.<p>

"So, what do you think?" the ebony-haired girl asked, propping her chin onto the table with her hands. The figure beside her sighed.

"You know I hate shinigamis."

The girl hummed, acknowledging his comment. "He seems okay, though. They both did."

"And then she went on and abandoned him. Sounds familiar to you?"

The tattoo artist stopped, purposely diverting the topic. "You've been holing up for long enough. How did looking after the shop go?"

"Same-same." The figure released another sigh. "Just...don't fraternise with that guy excessively, nē-chan. I would hate to see you get hurt again." The girl smiled, warmed with the other party's concern.

"I won't."

* * *

><p><strong>Not supposed to be doing this but...Anyway hope this chapter gave the two characters more interaction time. Lots of plot (and background) left to unfold!<strong>

**Feedback and reviews are greatly appreciated!**


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